Three days from Christmas,
Upon the winding Grapevine,
Dusted by snow and rich in twilight.
We squeezed and wriggles
Atop the upholstery of our crowded sedan,
Impatient and flooding with excitement.
Mama and Papa were in the front, as always,
And because I was the youngest,
I was forced between brother and sister.
Not much was on our minds but the holidays,
Family and spirit and presents, of course,
When from the darkness approached a figure,
Illuminated by the headlights of ours.
It spun and screeched and approached recklessly,
Heading straight for our front bumper.
Just before we collided Papa spun the wheel,
Leaving the car to seek someone new.
We sat in silence for a while before
Papa changed the subject.
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